


3 one word prompts: Hands, Sea, and Grotesque

by hallwayperson



Category: The X-Files, The X-Files: Fight the Future (1998), The X-Files: I Want To Believe (2008)
Genre: Episode: s01e13 Beyond the Sea, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 18:15:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12041478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hallwayperson/pseuds/hallwayperson





	3 one word prompts: Hands, Sea, and Grotesque

**Hands**

Sunbeams wake her, slowly warming her naked back. The spot next to her empty but still warm. She inhales and the familiar scent of him fills her with a renewed energy. Everything in the room is as she left it years ago and she wonders if she ever did leave. She wraps herself in the soft cotton sheet and sits up against the headboard when he returns to the bed with coffee. Her hand touching his as she reaches out for a sizzling hot mug of coffee. She scoots over to make space for him and moves back with her head in the nook of his neck as soon as he’s settled. Words aren’t needed. She slips her fingers through his with her free hand. He doesn’t move when she lets go to test the temperature of the coffee by slurping the first sip. He chuckles. She leaves the mug on the nightstand as it’s still too hot and reaches for his hand once again, tracing the lines, making a delicate pattern from wrist to fingertips, counts two scars and a single beauty mark. She can’t help but follow the prominent blue veins marking his hand, more visible than ever. She can see both of them getting older. She can see the vulnerability in him, and in that vulnerability she sees her own. A fleeting sadness washes over her as she lifts his hand to hold between both of hers. And he looks at her, the way he always does, making her feel alive, freezing her in time and place.

This is home.

 

**Sea**

She was driving back home exhausted from work, the rain falling in big heavy drops on the car, creating a monotonous lullaby.

She had let Boggs get to her, if only for a fleeting moment, but it had been enough. For a split second, over before it started, she had understood his rationalizing. She had understood how he’d justified his actions. He just needed an escape from everyone, to stop the noise. Hadn’t she wanted the same? Hadn’t she spent countless nights worried about her own choices in life? About all the things she hadn’t become and would never be. It made her shiver just to think about the comparison and she had to stop the car for fear of getting sick.

Sympathy. Had she really felt sympathy for him? She had. Or pity. She couldn’t quite make sense of it. Or anything. The rain was still pouring down and she drove until she reached a three-way junction, one of which leading to the sea. She went that way. She had to.

For the second time that week, she was standing in front of the great grey sea wishing to become one with it. Not to end things… but to mute the noise. The first time she had been there this week she hadn’t shed a tear but now, standing there alone, she let go of all of it. She left everything at the shore that day and when she had no more tears left, the sun started shining as if nature acknowledged her starting anew.

Or perhaps it was something greater.

 

**Grotesque**

He knows she isn’t dead. He can’t explain it but he just knows. A sharp pain in his hand makes him acutely aware how he’s been clutching her tiny necklace so tight, so angrily, he’s cut himself on one of the pointy edges. Without thinking he throws the necklace away, to the other end of the office, where it hits the wall before disappearing. He’s on his feet to go look for it before even realizing it.

“Sorry, Scully,” he says through clenched teeth as he searches for the little shiny cross that’s kept him searching relentlessly for her day after day. “I’m so sorry.”

He lifts giant stacks of paper and removes old case files to look for the necklace but he can’t seem to find it. Little drops of salty tears lands on the paper and in a swift motion all the papers are on the floor. He stops for a second and covers his face in his hands. He’s so worn down but there’s nothing to do but go on and he crouches down to pick up the mess he just made.

And there it is, on the floor, her golden necklace, shining just for him. He picks it up and puts it on as grey-suited walkers march the pavements outside his little basement window like Scully isn’t missing, like the world hasn’t stopped because of it. And it hasn’t, he knows that, but he can’t feel it. It’s all just so… _grotesque._


End file.
